Chapter 3

3.

In our house, TJ always sided with Tom.

The reason was simple―Tom was the "cool dad" who said "yes," and I was the "evil stepmother" who said "no" (even though I’m his biological mom).

Worse, Tom was constantly feeding TJ a twisted set of values, clearly scraped from the "hustle culture" TikToks he binged daily.

Last week, TJ bragged to his classmates that his dad was a "crypto millionaire" and that for his tenth birthday, he was going to rent a private jet to take the whole class to Disney World.

Of course, Tom was the one who helped him make that promise.

The next day, TJ came home and demanded, “Mom, you need to book the private jet. I already told everyone at school. If we don’t go, I’ll be a liar, and I’ll get bullied!”

I had just gotten home from working overtime, so exhausted I could fall asleep standing up. But I knelt down, trying to reason with him.

“Honey, I know you want to impress your friends. But renting a private jet isn’t realistic. It costs tens of thousands of dollars―”

“Then spend it!” TJ interrupted impatiently. “Dad said we’re going to have a lot of money soon because he invested in crypto. You just don’t want me to be happy!”

“TJ, that’s not how it works. We need to save for the future, like your college tuition―”

“College?” TJ let out an exaggerated scoff―an expression he clearly learned from TikTok. “Dad says college is a scam! He says real rich people are dropouts, like Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg!”

I took a deep breath. “TJ, Elon Musk went to the University of Pennsylvania, and Mark Zuckerberg went to Harvard―”

“Whatever!” TJ yelled. “You’re just jealous because Dad is more successful than you!”

He turned and ran to his room, slamming the door behind him.

I stood in the hallway, listening to the sounds coming from behind the door―it was some "finance guru" on TikTok, teaching kids how to "think like a winner."

Tom came home late from a "networking dinner," reeking of booze. TJ immediately ran out to tattle. “Dad! Mom refused to give me money again! She said we can’t afford a private jet!”

Tom immediately scooped TJ up. “Don’t cry, champ. If Mom won’t pay for it, Dad will!”

“What’s a few thousand bucks? Once our MetaGold takes off, that’s pocket change. The most important thing for a man is to keep his promises. You already told your friends, how can you back out? That would be such a failure.”

“Don’t be like your mom. Her poor-people mindset will ruin your life. Rich people don’t ask, ‘Do I have the money?’ They ask, ‘How can I make the money?’”

Tom soothed him, all while drilling his TikTok-fueled "success" doctrine into his head. He finally promised to take TJ to a top-tier golf club over the weekend, and only then did TJ’s tears stop.

The two of them drove off, leaving me alone in the dark living room.

I sat on the couch, watching the late-night news on TV―another crypto Ponzi scheme had collapsed, with investors losing millions.

My phone buzzed.

It was a text from my high school friend, Jessica.

[Heard you and Tom had a fight?]

I didn't want to get into it. [It’s nothing.]

[Don’t be like that, Sarah. I saw Tom’s Facebook. He posted a vague status about how ‘some people will never understand the entrepreneurial spirit.’]

I briefly explained the MetaGold situation.

Jessica immediately sent back a long reply:

[Sarah, I know you’re mad, but Tom really loves you. He just has a different way of showing it.]

[Tom is trying to improve your lives. You’re just too risk-averse, which is fine, I guess.]

[You know my boyfriend? He invested in an NFT project last year and just bought a Model 3. It’s all about having a bigger vision.]

I froze.

Was Jessica right?

I was raised by my grandmother in subsidized housing and got through college on scholarships. During spring break, I worked at Target to earn spending money.

I never went to any of those spring break parties.

The shame of being poor was so intense I couldn't even bring myself to explain why to my classmates.

Now, even an outsider like Jessica was telling me I was the problem. I started to doubt myself.

Was I really too conservative?

Was my refusal to gamble making me a roadblock to my husband's "success"?